


Beast

by yeaka



Series: Random Roleswaps [14]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe - Role Reversal, Gen, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-18
Updated: 2018-12-18
Packaged: 2019-09-22 10:32:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 965
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17058152
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: Prince Gladio rage-quits training.





	Beast

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Brachydios](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brachydios/gifts).



> A/N: This series is just random FFXV roleswap ficlets. Let me know if you want one. This one’s for Brachydios’ “prince!gladio and shield!prompto (gen)” request.
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own Final Fantasy XV or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

The next time he gets knocked onto his ass, Gladiolus doesn’t bother getting up again. He stays on the hard floor of the training hall, his massive sword clenched in one fist and the other bracing himself against the tile. Prompto remains three meters away, still hunched low in a ready position. But Gladiolus doesn’t come at him. It takes Prompto a few seconds to uncoil and prod, “You comin’, big guy?”

 _Big guy._ The nickname makes Gladiolus’ cheeks burn. It reminds him how much _bigger_ than Prompto he really is—taller, broader, _stronger_ , even older. Yet he’s the student and Prompto’s the teacher, and somehow, Prompto keeps _winning_.

With a winning smile, because Prompto’s all sunshine and gunpowder, the royal shield asks, “Giving up already? _Really_?”

Gladiolus knows he’s being teased, but for once, he doesn’t rise to the bait—just keeps still and grits his teeth. Prompto wanders close enough to kick his foot and insist, “C’mon, up you get. You’re never gonna get faster if you don’t practice, and if you don’t get faster, you’re never gonna stand a chance against me.”

“I almost had you!” Gladiolus breaks, “But you cheated! You tripped me, and—”

“And you think an MT’s programmed to play by the rules?” Prompto cuts in, suddenly frowning. He always does when he mentions the Niflheim threat, like he knows something they all don’t—knows _exactly_ how an Imperial soldier will take him apart. It’s not that Gladiolus doesn’t care about that, because he does; he’s just frustrated beyond belief and Prompto isn’t helping. He’s ready to snap about it, fuming on the inside, but Prompto reads his face and sighs, “You can’t quit in the middle of practice, Gladio.”

“I can do whatever I damn well please!”

“Well, you shouldn’t, because that’s part of the problem. You can work out until your biceps are bigger than your head, but if you can’t control your attitude, you’re still vulnerable. Don’t think an enemy won’t notice and exploit that.”

Gladiolus growls in the back of his throat. Most men in Prompto’s vein—skinny and small and low-born—would go running at the sight. But Prompto just shakes his head.

“Look, we’ve only got twenty minutes left before Iggy shows up with Noct, so let’s just use it, okay?”

 _That_ snaps Gladiolus’ attention away. “Why’s Noct coming?” The last thing he needs is an audience to his shame, and Noctis would be worst of all—they might be best friends, but Noctis is the one person in Insomnia who treats Gladiolus like any old nobody, and he wouldn’t hesitate to laugh at Prompto’s tiny knife undercutting Gladiolus’ enormous broadsword. 

Prompto looks momentarily puzzled, asking, “He didn’t talk to you about it? He told Ignis he’s thinking of joining the Crownsguard. I offered to train him for it—and to be honest, I was gonna offer that soon anyway. Now that you guys are out of school and hanging out more often, he needs to be prepared. If he wants to hang out with the crown prince, he better know how to protect you.” Cocking a smile, Prompto adds, “It’s a good decision on his part, really. I mean, we all know Iggy’s deadly with those knives, and I train directly with the Marshal. Between the three of us, you’ll always be safe.”

Gladiolus abruptly throws his sword across the training room. He gets a strange, sick satisfaction out of the way the metal clatters and screams off the tile. Prompto steps back, looking bewildered, but Gladiolus isn’t done letting off steam. He never planned on actually _voicing_ his fears, but now it comes bubbling out of him: he rumbles, “I don’t _want_ you all protecting me! Don’t you get it? _I’m_ the one that’s going to be king someday— _I’m_ the one that should protect all of you! I should be able to keep my friends safe no matter what, and I... I can’t even beat the smallest one!” His fist slams against his thigh none too gently, but he doesn’t feel it. He’s still hot and numb from sparring. He might also be quivering, but that’s as much from emotion and embarrassment as exertion. 

Prompto gives him a long, quiet look. Then the royal shield slowly sits down beside him, cross-legged, weapons away. Prompto’s fitted black gear does nothing to hide how skinny he is. Gladiolus’ heard just how hard he worked to get that way. He waits long enough for some of Gladiolus’ rage to dissipate before he softly says, “You’ll be a good king, Gladio. ...But you won’t do it alone. You’re strong; everyone knows that. But battles aren’t always about raw muscle power. Or any kind of strength, or even talent. In a real fight, you’ll probably win... partially because you have numbers: you have friends that love and stand by you. That’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

It’s Gladiolus’ turn to sigh. He suddenly feels small and spoiled, and also grateful, which is a bizarre feeling, because it’s usually Ignis’ lectures that make him feel that way. 

Prompto laughs quietly, like he sees Gladiolus’ defeat and is already sweeping past it. He reaches over to clasp Gladiolus’ knee and say, “But hey, you can still be the strongest of us if you want. Just keep training. You’ll beat me eventually. Maybe even Ignis, if you’re lucky. ...And you’ll definitely be able to kick Noctis’ ass for a while, at least until I catch him up.” Prompto pauses to wink, ending with, “Now, about today’s training...”

Gladiolus groans.

But he does push up to his feet, because he can’t afford to fall behind now—Noctis is almost as small as Prompto is, and Gladiolus will be damned if he lets _another_ shorty get the best of him.


End file.
